


Special Guest

by anonymousdaredevils



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousdaredevils/pseuds/anonymousdaredevils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an underground club where people can sit in the audience and watch a live porn show.</p><p>Tonight's special guest star is a drugged Daredevil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1742.html?thread=3061710#cmt3061710) on the kinkmeme.

"I don't feel good," Matt tells Claire, earnestly. He doesn't want to tell her that she smells funny. "I feel. hot. I."

"That's right, honey," Claire says, "just gotta get your shirt off, here, can you -"

They're using a knife, but that's okay: Matt knows, by now, not to fight with Claire when she's trying to help him. He doesn't know why he feel so - heavy, and itchy? things are hard to figure out, right now.  

 

* * *

 

Matt misses the plot for a minute, but focuses just in time to keep himself from hitting someone in the face: "oh no," Matt says, "oh no, oh _no_ , I didn't _mean_ to -"

Claire makes a shaky kind of noise. "Can you be good, honey?" she asks, which is - wrong, and strange: that's not what Claire calls him, but - but he gets distracted because he's _hot_ , and prickly, and he's glad she helped him take his shirt off because - because he's sweating, and his nipples hurt, and someone is rubbing him through his pants, what, why is that - "Where are we," he asks her. 

"Spread your legs, baby," Claire - why would Claire say something like that? but he _almost hit her_ , he remembers how scared and mad Foggy got, when Matt tried to hit him, even though back then Matt had been _way too tired_ to hurt him - but Claire wants him to spread his legs. 

He does. 

Someone - Claire? - is rubbing through his pants, and it's - good, it's _too good_ , this isn't right, it _hurts_ almost, he - "What," he says, "But what - I don't -" 

"Don't worry about it," she says. She's holding his hands; that's good. That's safer. He's having trouble holding his head up; when he drops it, it falls on someone's shoulder. _She_ uses mango-coconut shampoo; he wonders if she's a friend of Claire's. "Can you spread your legs any wider, baby?" 

He doesn't want to - it feels too good already - but he will, because he trusts her. 

He rubs the mask against his shoulder: "Why didn't you take it off," he says, and he doesn't want to sound sulky - that makes Claire punch him, usually - but it's _itchy_ and he wants it off. 

"Do." Claire sounds a little choked up. "Do you want to take it off, honey?" Her heart is beating _way too fast_. 

"Yes," he says. "I don't - "

"Do you want me to take it off for you?" she asks, and he sighs, turns his head to rest on her - thigh? why is he in her lap? this doesn't make _sense_ - 

"Yes, please," he says, because he does. 

 

* * *

 

Jessica and Wade had been doing it for a while. Team effort kind of thing. 

Does anyone really ever think "oh yeah, i'm gonna go into live porn shows with my best friend?" No. Obviously not. 

Shit had happened. She needed money. Wade needed money. They'd known each other since they were kids; Wade knew a guy who knew a guy, and he'd asked Jessica if she wanted in. 

Most of the time they didn't have to do a lot: there'd be some poor idiot who wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time, Wade's guy would set something up, she and Wade would head to some sleazy basement where a bunch of people would smoke cigars and drink cheap alcohol out of expensive bottles. She and Wade would put on their matching themed sexy shit, or whatever, and show the poor asshole a good time. 

And then they left. 

Jessica didn't know what happened to the people before or after the performances. She didn't want to know. It wasn't her business, it wasn't her money, it wasn't her - anything. 

It was six grand a night. 

Even if it only happened once every month or so, six grand could last a while, if you were careful and you were smart. 

Sometimes these things were themed, right, because rich losers had weird kinks. She wasn't too fucking surprised, then, after the bombings, that she showed up one night to find that the poor sucker - `scuse her, "star" - was some schmuck dressed up to look like the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, draped across Wade's lap and clearly just barely starting to wake up. 

Wade was there, and Wade looked guilty, which usually meant he'd done something stupid. 

Jessica ignored that for a minute, stood in the middle of the shitty "raised stage," which was honestly just plywood with a tablecloth stapled over it, to be sure, and did the intro: yadda yadda here to enjoy, yadda yadda erotic performance, blah blah new heights of depravity, etc etc stand to show off her three-quarters profile with her back arched and her stomach sucked in to really emphasize her legs and chest when she dropped the robe. Wait a couple of beats, for Roger to start the soundtrack, great, and then strut over to Wade. 

Whatever. 

Who actually had his arms up under the guy's shoulders, holding him tight, even though he was - wait, those weren't trick cuffs, they were police issue handcuffs, the kind you couldn't get out of on your own, and Wade had his professional smile on but he was clearly struggling to hold the guy. 

Was he just _not drugged_? What kinda fuckery was this, exactly? 

Jessica smiled and put her shoulders back, ran one hand down her own side and slapped her ass. Wade looked apologetic. Goddamnit. 

"Those are real cuffs, though," she whispered. Still smiling. Gotta smile. 

"Twice the payout," Wade said, "if things get bad they have Max offstage, he'll come and help." 

The guy jerked hard, like he was trying to throw Wade over his shoulder, and then groaned like he was confused.

"This is _the real_ guy?" Jessica asked.

  

* * *

 

Wade kept trying to get the guy naked, and the guy turned out to be pretty good at keeping Wade from positioning him the way he wanted. Jessica did a little patter, smiled really wide, showed the audience a couple of floor tricks that had been popular when she was dancing, all while hoping that whatever they'd given this guy would kick in quickish. 

It wasn't like this particular audience would have any moral objections to, say, watching the devil of Hell's Kitchen beat people up, either, if it came down to that. A couple of people had started to get bored - they were shouting things like "lose the cuffs" and "start the real show" - so Jess sauntered back up to Wade. 

Who shook his head, once, real tight: okay, so maybe they needed Max's help. 

Just to double-check, though, she reached out a hand (feeling oddly like the one and only time she'd gone to the zoo as a tiny kid and gotten to feet the baby hippo, while her mom and the zookeeper watched like hawks) to touch the Devil's face, whispered "hey, honey, you need to calm down," without really expecting it to make a difference. 

And he _did_. 

Son of a _bitch_. 

"Claire," he said. His voice was scratchy. "Did I. Claire, I think I'm. I think these are handcuffs." 

Wade had him by the arms and was shaking his head _no no no_ at her, but Jess hadn't gotten this far in life by ignoring the opportunities handed to her. 

"Yeah," she said, _Claire_ , okay, he did in fact sound pretty out of it, "yeah, baby, you were hitting me and my friend."

"Oh _no_ ," the Devil said, loud enough for someone in the audience to hear, because they'd started laughing. 

"It's okay, honey," she said, "I'm gonna take them off, you just have to be real good, yeah?" 

It was freaky how good he got, all of a sudden. 

She didn't want to take the mask off, but she and Wade, working together, got him mostly naked and hanging in Wade's lap, so the audience could see his body. (Which, in Jess's mind, would've been okay if he wasn't so banged up that it felt a little gross, thinking about sex with him.) 

She did the thing where she rubbed him through his underwear, slow, steady, and then slipped a lube-slick hand in his underwear to stroke his cock. He got worked up about that, tried to fight Wade off, but that was okay, she just whispered "Hey, honey, it's Claire," in his ear a couple of times, and he slumped.


End file.
